


The Woman in Her Dreams

by Kawashimiya



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2018-09-06 18:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8763322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawashimiya/pseuds/Kawashimiya
Summary: Widowmaker dreamt while she slept, her dreams always tinted with a shade of blue and gold. She wakes with a feeling of warmth, but will she ever meet her?





	1. The Woman in Her Dreams

Amelie was gone.   
Angela's world seemed to collapse onto itself when she arrived at the scene, with guards, police and Overwatch agents crowded outside the door of Gerard Lacroix's mansion. 

Gerard was dead.  
The leader of Overwatch lay in bed with a clean bullet wound in his head. The imprint of the woman she loved was right there, on the bed, beside his body.

But Amelie was gone. 

* * *

"You're done for the day, Widowmaker." The stern-faced Talon trainer barked, removing his armour. “Good improvement. Rest up, tomorrow will be strenous.”

Widowmaker merely nodded and turned to leave. She just wanted to go back to her room, take a bath, then head to bed. 

She wanted to see her, the woman in her dreams.

She didn’t remember when those dreams started, only that they started with small inklings:  
  
First the blue eyes, which brought her to places with clear streams and mighty waterfalls, much better than the dull grey rooms that Talon put her in. Her eyes were as blue and crystalline as the water in her dreams. It was always the eyes she dreamt of first, and she found herself looking for them in every dream she had. 

She was dreaming of the blue eyes again, the same fields, rocks and scenery when she was rudely awakened by loud knocks at her door. She opened the door with a scowl, and wasn’t surprised to see the man in a mask.

“Dinner time, Widowmaker.” He said, his raspy voice monotonous.

He called himself Reaper, and he was the only other one who went through the same type of trainings she did. 

“Thanks.” She replied flatly. Although she didn't sound like it, she truly appreciated how he came to invite her to dinner. If he hadn’t woken her up, she would’ve dreamt till the next day; even her growling stomach wouldn’t rouse her from her dreams, the only place where she thought she felt happy. She thought, because she didn't know how happiness felt like. It was what she believed, that she felt happy, when she met those sky blue eyes.

“Your first mission’s in five months.” Reaper said, watching Widowmaker take a seat in front of him after they collected their food. “Once you prove yourself, you get better quarters. Better life than here.” 

“Mm.” She grunted in response. 

She didn't mention that she felt as if she was stuck in some kind of prison, but Reaper probably felt that way when he was starting out too, as he assured her it was because she was still undergoing training. 

“Just work hard, little spider.” He chuckled. Widowmaker didn’t know a gloomy man with a mask in the shape of a skull would actually be this... _welcoming_. Everyone else in the facility gave her weird looks, and she thought it was probably because of her blue skin. She never questioned it, because she's already seen enough of strange things. Reaper could dissipate into a cloud of smoke, so she didn't think she was that strange. She just felt alien and out of place, but with Reaper here, she didn't mind it that much. Besides, what else could be worse than people gossiping about her killing her own husband?

“I’ll head back now.” She muttered, and walked back to her room after returning her food tray.

Her dream that night was different. It had a tinge of gold. Every dream she had so far was of the recurring image of blue eyes. Her dreams were more or less repetitive - all different scenarios she probably dreamt of already more than twice. But now, there were golden streaks that started to accompany the eyes she was already familiar with. The golden rays of the sun that shimmered on the surface of the rivers, soft and gentle, and something even brighter. Widowmaker didn’t know what the gold represented, but for some reason, it smelled of home.

She wondered what the gold and blue meant and what they represented when she awoke, but told herself she had to focus on her training. She wanted to get out of the training facility as quickly as she could. 

She was trained at sniping, and they had told her multiple times that her role was to stay behind the frontlines and get rid of the ones who were straying from the group. They made her train with stationary dummies first before the moving dummies, then they made her run all over the training arena while using her grappling hook and shooting. Everything tired her out by the end of the day, but she knew that if she could just persist a little while longer, she would be able to retire in her room and have her pleasant dreams again. 

Aside from sniping, she also had to build up her stamina in order to cope with the real battles. They made her run every other day after sniping training, and by then she would be exhausted, but she did it anyway. When her trainers thought that she had enough training in sniping, they made her work on her muscle strength. She looked at Reaper's arms as a way of motivating herself, but she hated muscle-building the most. It was absolute torture to her, but she likes how she could sleep better at night. It made her dreams more vivid, and sometimes she felt that her dreams were vivid enough so she could reach out to touch the warm, golden streaks. Once, she thought she felt a silkiness smooth as velvet. 

She noticed her dreams getting increasingly detailed. It was the same old scenarios, but every time it recurred, she thought she saw a shadow of a body, the curve of a nose, the fullness of pink lips. If even remotely possible, the face would be a face carved by the gods themselves, with perfect contours and features. Soon, she concluded that the golden streaks were hair. Hair so smooth and with a scent so familiar she thought she was home. 

Then came the laughter that came along with it. Her own laughter - she recognised - though she can’t remember herself ever laughing. Her laughter, and someone else’s. She related the laughter to the person in her dreams, who she assumed was a woman, with the blue eyes, golden hair and the ghost of her face. The laughter warmed her heart oddly. Talon told her she wouldn’t feel anything, which made her believe she was devoid of emotion. However, as she placed her hand over her chest after waking from the dream, she felt her heart beating. The sound of her heartbeat echoed in her ears, and she felt the weak warmth of her blood. A kind of subtle warmth, reminding her of the warmth that the woman in her dreams brings her. The warmth that felt as if she was wrapped in the gentle rays of the sun. A warmth that made her feel... human.  

She found herself losing concentration during training after her dreams started getting more vivid. She wanted to feel the warmth from those dreams, a type of unsatiated hunger in the depths of her stomach. She desperately wanted to see her again, the woman in her dreams. 

* * *

When Talon finally certified her ready for “The Real Thing” (as Reaper would call it), Widowmaker was given her own personalised rifle, the Widow’s Kiss, along with a customised suit. 

She was given a briefing by Reaper a day before. Reaper mentioned that they would face an organisation, Overwatch, and had told her that she used to be affiliated with them. Widowmaker did not comment. She didn't even remember them. 

“Widowmaker,” he started. “Tomorrow will be your ‘Big Day’, and you’ll finally be out of this shithole of a training centre.” 

She nodded, “Oui.” 

“They assigned me to babysit you because I was from Overwatch too.” He stated plainly. “Just thought you’d like to know that.” 

She raised an eyebrow, “and what does that have to do with me?” 

“We both... went through the same. Though not entirely. I actually remember Overwatch. And the agents... I just wanted you to know that you have a friend in me. In case anything happens...”

“Merci.” She smiled, the best Widowmaker could muster for someone with no emotions, Reaper thought.

Her dream was extremely vivid that night. She attributed it to what she assumed was excitement for her first mission the next day. 

 _She’s beautiful_ , was the first thing that came to Widowmaker’s mind. She finally saw her full face instead of a just the brief ghost of her facial features. Her whole being seemed to reflect the rays of the sun, as if she was the sun herself. Her light didn’t sting Widowmaker’s eyes, instead, it was a pleasant soft glow that enveloped her in a nice, comfortable warmth. She was a flame that would never burn out, and would never singe no matter how close you get to her. The amazing scenery she used to see in all her dreams simply paled in comparison to the beauty of this angel in front of her, this angel who was smiling right back at her.  Her smile made the rivers and the streams gleam a little brighter... Made Widowmaker’s smile a little wider, and the laughter in her dreams a little louder.

_Hey Amelie -_

_Amelie._ That sounded familiar. Right. It was her name...

She saw the lips of the woman move, though soundless. 

_\- I... -_

She couldn’t read it, but she saw the woman laughing again. It must have been the laughter she heard in her previous dreams. Her alarm shocked her awake. She carefully placed her hand over her chest, as if afraid of her own heartbeat. 

_Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump._

She hesitantly brought her hand to her face. There was liquid on her face, drawn out of her amber eyes. Tears had glided down her cheeks, like the rivers in her dreams. 

_Why do I only see you in my dreams?_

Reaper spared no time in coming to get her, leading her to the helicopter. They would engage Overwatch at one of their bases. 

“How do you feel?” He asked. 

“Nothing. I feel nothing.” She responded, absent-mindedly running her fingers over the bumps of the Widow’s Kiss.  “What am I supposed to feel? I killed my own husband. I felt nothing. I will never feel anything.” 

“... It's the same, then. I stopped feeling anything after awhile.” Reaper responded, sitting with his arms folded. 

When they landed, the place was peaceful. The wind blew, played in her hair, tickled her nose with unfamiliar smells. Then again, almost everything was unfamiliar to her. 

Reaper and Widowmaker nodded to each other, both knowing full well what they were meant to do. Create a distraction and let their other agents do what was needed. 

Her vigorous training led up to this moment, when she picked soldiers off the field as easily as picking off scabs, each flick of her finger ending a life. 

_Music to my ears._

Even more agents fell to the ground, each dying like flies. 

“They have reinforcements.” Reaper’s voice came through her headset. 

“Okay.” She noted, focusing her sights towards the new mass of people that gathered.

The shimmer of gold caught her sight immediately, bringing back the visions of the streams, and the smiles. Worse, the warmth.

_Not now._

She tried to become Widowmaker, a cold, heartless murderer, but she couldn’t. The gleaming gold was so radiant in her scope she had to unscope to look. 

They had a medic who was flying all over, golden rays following behind her.

“Reaper.” She breathed into the headset, feeling her heartbeat start to accelerate and her skin starting to warm, “is that an... angel?”

“Their medic.” He responded, voice dripping with malice. She watched him move through the shadows, quietly killing off soldiers who moved too far alone. “Mercy. Kill her. She’s a rat who manages to fly out death’s grip every single time, but now that you’re here, things will be easier. That damned angel _._ ” 

She scoped again, taking aim right at the medic. Her finger moved on the trigger, ready to shoot. As if knowing she was there, the medic turned and stared right at her. 

Widowmaker’s finger twitched. She could recognise those blue eyes anywhere. If the gleaming gold hadn't given her enough hints, the comfort and warmth that it stirred up in her heart was enough.

She was face to face, almost, with the woman of her dreams.

_Mercy._

She mouthed, feeling the name of the medic leave her mouth. No, that wasn’t her name. 

_Mercy._

It really wasn’t her name, of course, they all had callsigns. 

_What was it?_

She felt like she knew the name of the woman. It was sitting at the tip of her tongue. She was sucked back into the world of dreams, of streams and laughter and _her._ The movement of her lips and the words she was trying to say.

It suddenly came to her, along with a sharp pain that pierced her temples. The memory jolted her back to the current, Widow’s Kiss laying beside her. 

 _Angela._  

She rolled the name across her tongue, flipping it over, then allowing it to leave her lips.

_Angela._

It sounded so right, and she knew it was. 

_Angela._

She had finally met the woman of her dreams. 

“Angela.", she dared to say aloud.

Her scope focused on the medic, and Widowmaker thought she could almost hear what she was saying.

 _“Amelie, I'm in love with you.”_ She could finally read the lips of the woman in her dreams. 

The cool wind carried the smell of her hair right past her,  cruelly taking away the warmth it provided almost immediately. 

Her scope still followed the angel, who danced even amidst the chaos.

She stroked the trigger, then smiled.

“Angela.” 

A shot sliced through the air and missed the medic’s ear by a hair’s breadth. Just a little bit closer, and she would’ve been killed. 

“I love you, too.” Widowmaker sighed.

Back at base, Reaper would tell her that she did a good job for her first mission. She would mumble her thanks, then retreat to her room. 

Then she would meet the woman in her dreams. 


	2. She Never Dreamt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This draft was lying around and I entirely forgot about it. I'll finish this story one day, I promise.

Mercy closed her eyes and counted, “One. Two. Three.” 

She could feel her heartbeat throbbing in the socket of her eyes. “Four. Five. Six.” 

It was almost ridiculous how quickly her heart was beating. This wasn’t her first battle. This wasn’t her first time dealing with someone so close to death, but her heart refused to stop palpitating.

“You’ll be okay.”, she mumbled, either to herself or the soldier who got a clean shot in his skull, her gloved fingers fumbling al the equipment in her emergency kit.

Staring at the needle in one hand and her other trembling hand, she thought of the cool metal sinking into her arm, but decided to bite her lip instead at a weak attempt to calm herself. She tasted the metal tinge of blood on her tongue, and looked down at her hands to see that they were not shaking anymore. 

Carefully placing the needle in the fallen soldier’s vein, she licked the blood off her lips, “Get yourself together, _Mercy_.”

The soldier didn’t make it.

Her brain was still a mess when they were being flown back to Overwatch headquarters. 

“Angela.” Jack Morrison settled himself beside her, sighing as he removed his mask. “Did you see her?” 

Once again, she flicked her tongue over the bite wound on her lip, reminding herself, _“_ Get yourself together, _Angela.”_

“Yes.” She breathed, throat clenched tight. “But that wasn’t her.” 

“Widowmaker.” Jack merely murmured, rolling his neck. “That’s what Talon calls her. Widowmaker. I barely recognised her.”

 _That callsign’s fucking bullshit_ , Angela wanted to say, but all she did was clench her fists. Many questions ran through her mind, but she knew Jack could answer none of them. There was nothing she could say to Jack. She couldn’t find the words. 

“We lost Amelie,” was all she managed. “To Talon.” 

Maybe it was Angela’s imagination. Angela was stuck in a pool of “maybes”, remembering the way Widowmaker’s bullet missed her ear by merely a fraction. Maybe it was a slip of her finger. Maybe it was just lady Fortune smiling down on herself. She could’ve gotten her brains blown right out, but she didn’t. Widowmaker had missed the shot, despite getting precise shots in the middle of the foreheads of almost all their Overwatch soldiers.

Angela played with the idea of even more “maybes”, maybe she could get Amelie back. Maybe she could _save_ her, and she slapped herself softly in the face. 

“I am not a miracle worker. I am not a saviour.” Angela said to herself, mild tremors shaking her hands. She didn’t even manage to save that soldier on the battlefield. Every person she saved had ten dead equivalents.

“Not all people need fixing, Angela.” 

Gabriel. Genji. 

She didn’t need more names on her list of people she revived, but not “saved”. She wasn’t an angel. She wasn’t a miracle worker. She was Just Angela. 

* * *

Angela collapsed onto the soft, welcoming pillows on her bed, heaving a long sigh. She closed her eyes and let herself relax. Once again licking the wound on her lip, she couldn’t help but remember how she used to imagine how Amelie’s lips felt against hers. 

 _Fuck_ , she cursed, the noise of her past resounding in her mind. The refreshing sound of the gush from the waterfalls which she visited with Amelie, now white noise ringing in her ears. 

She imagined the way Widowmaker stroked the trigger of her gun, thought of the way Amelie’s fingers used to curl around her own, then the way Widowmaker’s amber eyes widened when they met her own blue ones. 

She loved Amelie, and seeing her murder people as if they were flies didn’t change the way her heart thumped against her ribs. She loved her so much that even if she had _her_ gun to her head she would’ve smiled. 

Angela cried that night. Guilt ate her up alive, and she couldn’t seem to get the image of Widowmaker’s blue skin out of her mind. If only she had done more tests when they brought Amelie back. If only she had put her foot down and not let Amelie go back to Gerard that day. If only she was who people thought she was - a God, an angel, a saviour, a miracle worker, and the list went on. But she wasn’t, and she was swimming in “maybes” and “if onlys”. She didn’t remember when, but she finally fell asleep, teardrops pooling at the corners of her closed eyes. 

Angela did not dream that night. She never dreamt ever since she lost Amelie. 

* * *

Angela drowned herself in work after her meeting with Widowmaker, stopping only to have a few cups of coffee and take her small meals - it didn’t really matter since she didn’t feel like eating anything anyway. She was rudely awakened by loud thumping on her door a week after she started locking herself in her office.

“Angela,” Lena invited herself into Angela’s office, worry etched in her furrowed brows, “you haven’t left the your office for an entire week.” 

“And I don’t plan to. There’s just so much work to do.” Angela replied, motioning at the stacks of files on her table. Her hair was down, dark eyecircles obvious under her eyes. “These people need me.” 

“What about the rest of us if you work yourself to death?” Lena retorted, “what’s gonna happen to us then? You look like you haven’t slept in years!”

Angela massaged her temples, annoyance creeping into her tone, “just leave me alone, Lena.” 

“You’ve been like this ever since you met Widowmaker!” 

When Angela didn’t respond, Lena threw her hands up in surrender, voice raised, “you can work yourself to death then, if we ever get Amelie back you won’t be here to celebrate with us, aye?” 

Lena stared at Angela, who still didn’t respond. She heaved a sigh, “just remember to eat and rest, Angela. I’m just worried.” When Angela didn’t respond, Lena left the room and closed the door, leaving Angela in her thoughts.

Lena was just telling her what she already knew, Angela mumbled, closing the file she was looking at and burying her face in her hands. Of course she couldn’t get Widowmaker out of her mind. If it was that easy, she didn’t have to force herself to work just to over-exert herself in order to fall asleep at night. It was nearly impossible to fall asleep, because all she got were nightmares. She was haunted by many things, Reaper’s hollow, soulless eyes when she barely managed to pull him back from the dead, Genji’s angry red eyes when she failed again.

What haunted her the most was Widowmaker’s blue skin. She wasn’t even Amelie anymore. Amelie’s warm, amber eyes and beautiful, reassuring smile was replaced with Widowmaker’s cold eyes and a face void of emotion. Angela would do anything just to bring Amelie back. Just so she could hear her melodious laughter and jump into her welcoming arms again. The day they found Gerard Lacroix dead in his room was a day too late that Angela noticed Amelie wasn’t being herself. That her eyes lost its usual gleam, that her laugh lost its melody and that her smile lost its warmth. 

When she met Widowmaker on the battlefield, she wanted more so for Amelie to be dead than having changed into the sniper that was killing the members of Overwatch like they were ants. The woman of her dreams turned into a monster, and all she could blame was herself. 

But, Angela thought about the bullet that missed her head by a fraction, which almost seemed like it was on purpose that she missed. She believed there was still hope, and with that ounce of hope burning bright in her heart, she steeled herself to face Widowmaker the next time they met on the battlefield. 

Seemingly almost on cue, Athena announced that an urgent meeting would be held in the main meeting room, followed by Soldier:76′s voice, “Agents, we have another fight on our hands.” 

With that, Angela tied her hair up in a ponytail, left her office and closed the door. Touching a few buttons on her watch, she smiled, “You need a medic?” 


	3. A Dream of Hope

Widowmaker woke up suddenly, eyes wide and sweat on her forehead. She didn’t remember exactly what she dreamt of, and all she remembered was the blood.

She had killed so many people, so how could blood induce such fear? Then she remembered — it wasn’t just blood. There was the blonde hair, then the foul, metallic stench of blood. She had killed the woman in her dreams. It wasn’t a dream. It was a _nightmare._

“No,” she whispered to herself, pounding her chest slightly with a shaking fist while taking deep breaths. She knew she would never do it. She would _never_ lay even a finger on her. 

She never expected that the woman in her dreams, the woman who she clung onto in order to remind herself that she wasn’t only a brainwashed robot, turned out to be the enemy. After meeting Mercy, Widowmaker stopped dreaming of the mountains and the waterfall. She only had nightmares of blood smeared all over her _blue_ hands. She had turned completely unrecognisable in the field, just a cold-blooded assassin who killed people with a small flick of her finger. It all seemed too easy for her, until she saw the glow in her scope. She blamed the distraction from the glow that made her take longer shots, but she knew deep down that it wasn’t a distraction. It was a reminder. It was a cruel reminder that she too, was human. Her name was Amelie. Not Widowmaker.

She remembered what Reaper had told her during her first mission, which he had repeated during their recent meeting. They expect Overwatch agents to stick their noses in, and Reaper’s words were etched in her brain.

_Kill her. She’s a rat who manages to fly out death’s grip every single time, but now that you’re here, things will be easier. That damned angel._

Amelie wanted to retort almost immediately that she could never bring herself to do it. But she figured that if she did, they would have to reprogram her brainwashing, and that meant she would have to forget Mercy — no, Angela — again.

“Her name is Angela, Amelie.” She would not forget her. She knew that if she wanted to save at least an ounce of her humanity, she _had_ to cling onto two things, even with the edge of her nails if necessary — Angela, and her own name. 

Contrary to what Reaper told her, Widowmaker was still stuck in the shitty accommodation that Talon had initially put her in. Her small room’s dry air made her throat hurt and breathing difficult. Laying on the bed that was hard as rock made her think of how her bed used to be. The bed which she shared with her husband was big, soft, luxurious. She hardly thought of her husband, and Widowmaker doubted if Amelie did truly love him like how she believed she did. Why did she dream so much of the blonde hair, the pink lips and the warmth that it brought her? 

 _Angela._ She whispered, making sure to remember her name before she fell asleep. A sort of prayer that she’d dream of her. The ache in her chest another, dare she say pleasant?, reminder that she was still human.

Amelie did not dream of Angela after meeting her. She didn’t think she’ll ever dream of Angela unless she sees her again. The longing was painful, desperate. She needed to see her again. The woman in her dreams. Amelie fell asleep while hoping to spot the radiant glow through her scope in their next operation.

Rain started to fall.

* * *

The sound of raindrops meeting cement was strangely calming for Angela. She was taking time to comb her hair, moisturise her body and did her skincare routine which she had neglected. The showers of rain outside her window were soft and gentle. Laying herself in bed and snuggling under the covers, she remembered how the melody of rain was her favourite sound to fall asleep to, along with the cool weather it brought along.

Colder air-conditioned rooms. Being warm and comfortable under the blanket. The hushed sounds of raindrops outside her windows. These things usually contributed to a good night’s sleep.

Angela knew she would not be getting one tonight. Jack had given her the operation brief two days before, and Angela was still mulling over it. 

It made her feel like everything was alright in the world again. But as usual, she couldn’t fall asleep, because things were definitely not alright. The rain, despite its gloominess, seemed to reassure her that things were going to be okay soon, since the sun would always shine again. She would meet Widowmaker on the field. She touched a trembling hand to her own chest, feeling her heartbeat. Imagining those amber eyes she used to stare into made her heart beat faster. She envisaged the moment she would finally hear her voice again, and a calm rushed over her. She wasn’t the same scared, frantic Angela who saw Widowmaker. There was a newly found motivation to bring Amelie back, and this time, she would do it right. She would be the miracle worker everyone said she was.

Her glow that followed her wherever she flew was what gave people hope on the battlefield, and for someone who was the supposed embodiment of hope, Angela never felt _this_ hopeful before.

But Angela still could not dream.

* * *

Light showers of rain fell amidst the sun’s glow, and Widowmaker could feel her almost erratic heartbeat against her suit. 

“You seem calm. Have you gotten used to the thrill before an operation?” Reaper asked, seated beside her. 

They were in a black car with tinted windows that was transporting them separately from the rest of the Talon units. Their role in this operation was merely just clean-ups, in case anything went wrong. 

“I only feel thrill when I kill.” Widowmaker answered honestly, “though that’s not something I’m proud of.” 

Was it thrill when her heart beat faster every time before she kills someone? Does it beat faster because of the satisfaction from getting that clean shot or does it beat faster because every person dead is another person that adds to the weight of guilt she’s carrying as a murderer? 

Reaper cleared his throat, “you should be, with sniping skills like that. It’s something worth being proud of. You went through so much training after all.” 

“Am I supposed to be thankful, then? That I was brainwashed and turned into a murderer with ‘sniping skills like this’?” Widowmaker retorted, much to Reaper’s surprise.

He swallowed, tightening his grip on his shotguns. He wasn’t entirely oblivious to the fact that Widowmaker was aware of what she had done and what more she was going to do as an agent of Talon. That she, despite being brainwashed, still had an ounce of humanity in her. The conversation ended, and they both sat in silence.

Widowmaker was thinking if she was going to see Angela again, and what she would do if she did. She had imagined the scenario multiple times in her head, wondering what would happen and what she would say. What could she say? After killing so many of her colleagues? After almost killing her? Most importantly, she wanted to know what was the nature of their relationship. Why did she think of Angela more than Gerard? Why did taking aim at Angela cause an indescribable ache in her heart, while she didn’t even hesitate when killing her own husband? How did Angela even end up as the only thread to her own sanity and humanity?

Before she had the chance to form her questions into a coherent chain of thought, Reaper spoke again. 

“We’ll talk more about your existential crisis when we get back to Headquarters, and I promise I’ll arrange for a better place for you to live in. For now, just focus on the mission. We can’t afford for anything to go wrong...” Reaper stepped out the car, and looking back at Widowmaker, he added, “...and hopefully we won’t run into Overwatch and their main troops. If we do, you know what to do.” 

He didn’t have to spell it out for her to know what he was going to say,  _“get the damned angel first.”_

The meeting place was empty, and it seemed as if the transaction was already finished. There was nothing to be done. 

Widowmaker felt a tinge of disappointment because that meant she wouldn’t be seeing Angela. All that anticipation and questions for nothing. Reaper had already called Talon HQ to inform them of a job already done, but before he even had a chance to speak, the explosion of a bomb went off nearby. The two assassins moved as fast as they could towards the sound, and saw some injured Talon agents scattered around the area, without the goods they were meant to transport. Other agents were hiding someplace else. It was clear that their contact just wanted to earn a quick sum of money without losing anything in return.

The light rain couldn't put out the remaining embers from the explosion.

The entire situation frustrated Reaper as he watched so many men collapsed on the ground, in addition to a failed operation. Overwatch didn’t even have to turn up and the situation was already dire — but they did. 

Overwatch agents flooded to the area, probably due to the explosion.

“The weapons should be transported in a truck. Look for it, then destroy it.” Reaper instructed, growling into the intercom before starting his job. 

“Understood.”

Widowmaker instinctively grappled her way to the highest point, and started to pick off the slower agents at the back of the hoard. Instead of looking for the truck, she strained her eyes looking for the familiar glow. 

_Please be here._

Amelie pleaded, _please._

Widowmaker heard Reaper swear into the intercom, and assumed that the truck couldn't be found and the contact got away with the money and their weapons.

Suddenly, as a glare in her scope caused her to flinch for a moment, she realised why Reaper was swearing.

“They brought their main team.” Reaper spat, “just our luck.”

“Angela.” Amelie whispered. She came, as if responding to her pleas. 


	4. Never Had a Dream Come True

The rain didn’t manage to dampen Mercy’s spirit, instead, it made her feel even stronger. She knew for a fact that Widowmaker would be here. She didn’t have a plan, but somehow, she knew all she had to do was find her. Find her, and then... hope for the best. 

As someone who didn’t engage in the frontlines of battle, Mercy could disengage for a moment and look for Widowmaker. It wasn’t hard to follow the trail of bullets to find where they were coming from. It was, however, hard to leave her team behind in order to fulfil her own selfish wishes. Reassuring herself that she had done enough so far, with none of their agents dead (yet), and with half the Talon agents injured by the explosion, her team had the advantage. 

When she had flown close enough to see Widowmaker perched on the highest point of some broken, rusty, metallic scaffolding, Mercy stopped. She suddenly realised how much of a risk she was taking. Widowmaker might have really just missed that shot, not on purpose. What if she was, indeed, a cold-blooded assassin? She did kill her own husband, after all. If she could’ve killed her husband, she could just as easily, or even more easily, kill her. What was she to Widowmaker anyway? It was just Angela’s wishful one-sided thinking that made her think that she could’ve amounted to anything more than a friend to Amelie.

 _What now?_ She thought, resting on a lower level of the scaffold. The rain was heavier now, falling in droplets. She was so enveloped in her own thoughts of just _meeting her_ that she didn’t plan what she would do _after_ that. What would she say? What if all Widowmaker would do is just shoot her? Then, she smiled. _It would be a kind of redemption_ , Angela thought, just right for what she had done. For all the people she had ruined. 

“What are you doing here, _Mercy_?” 

Mercy’s heart almost leaped out her throat the second she heard the low, husky voice that manifested itself behind her. 

“G-Gabriel.” Mercy gulped, instinctively moving backwards as Reaper approached. 

“It’s _Reaper_ now.” Reaper responded, moving even closer, the metal creaking along with the steps he took. His face was directly across hers, and Mercy felt as if he was close enough to hear how hard her heart was beating. The holes of his mask where his eyes should be revealed dark, empty sockets. She avoided his gaze, eyes focusing on both their feet. “Are you _scared_ of me?” He questioned, “scared of this monster _you_ created with your own hands?” 

“Gabriel I-” Mercy looked behind her, realising she had nowhere else to move. She was backed up against a corner of the scaffold, and if she side-stepped she would fall, much too far for her wings to carry her at such a high drop. “I’m sorry,” her voice trembled, “I just wanted to save you, I didn’t think-”

“You didn’t think about what would happen? You were so caught up in your own damned fantasy about being a saviour. You didn’t think about anyone else.” He brought his hand to her throat, his hand closing around it and thumb scratching against the fabric on her throat.

“I’m sorry.” Mercy’s cracking voice was barely a whisper. “I just wanted to bring you back. I’m sorry Gabriel. I’m so sorry.” She choked, face wet with rain, tears amidst the droplets that glided down her profile. 

“Your apologies won’t bring back what I’ve lost, Angela.” Gabriel scowled, lifting her chin so her eyes would meet his. “I wanted to kill you... but you look like you actually want it. I would much rather prefer watching you suffer in your guilt. I believe that’s a fate worse than death. _A fate that matches mine._ ” 

Gabriel released his grip and turned away from Angela, fists clenched. He disappeared into a cloud of smoke, and Angela collapsed on the scaffold. Her legs were shaking, and her throat was tight. It wasn’t the near-death she feared, it was Gabriel; it was her past coming back to haunt her. 

The rain started to fall even more, the sun’s rays hidden behind blankets of grey clouds. She tried steadying herself by taking deep breaths and counting.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Another deep breath, five. Six. Seven. Eight.

The crashing of the rain against the metal scaffolding drowned out everything else, and reminded Angela of the waterfall she had visited with Amelie. Despite Angela’s many protests against taking a long vacation, Amelie had secretly planned the trip in order to get Angela away from work. Angela was pleasantly surprised when Amelie whipped out two airplane tickets to Switzerland, and after hearing that Amelie had taken a few weeks off ballet just for the trip, how could she have refused? 

Angela leaned her head against the cold metal, too exhausted to move. The fear that took over her body left her weak and cold. She tried to assure herself that it would be fine, finding the hope that she held so strongly just before she met Reaper. She knew Widowmaker was up there somewhere, probably too busy watching the Overwatch agents on the ground to notice her seated in a corner of the scaffold. Angela was drained. After losing Amelie, she had always felt fatigued. She couldn’t stop working, as it was her only way to feel like she was doing _something_ at least. She could save more lives than had been lost, and that was the thing that kept her going. Before, Amelie had forced her out of the office multiple times and brought her to places to relax and forget about work. Angela had forgotten how she had cared for herself before she met Amelie. She used to watch Amelie’s performances and go on short trips all the time. What was she doing before that? 

All she remembered was how her life constantly revolved around Overwatch and how she could improve her skills as a doctor, as Mercy. She had spent so much time as Mercy she neglected Angela. All those years wasted as Mercy, because she couldn’t even save those who mattered to her. Gabriel, Genji, _Amelie_... It didn’t feel like she had done much in comparison to what she _hadn’t_ done. 

Angela was suffering a fate worse than death indeed. She had wondered on multiple occasions why the bullet who had killed her fellow agent hadn’t killed her instead. A failure as Mercy. When Angela, who spent so much time with Amelie, didn’t realise that Amelie was being strange during the days leading up to Gerard Lacroix’s death, she had failed as Angela. She laughed at how ridiculous it was, failing as both Mercy _and_ Angela. 

* * *

She had confessed on their last day in Switzerland. They were both hiking up the mountain, and had stopped to take a rest at a rest stop. The waterfall was a few hundred metres higher, and Amelie chuckled as Angela whined about her sore legs. Amelie liked taking photos, and as usual, made Angela pose as her model. After their mini photo-taking session, Amelie sat next to Angela and rested her head on her shoulder. She let out a contented sigh, and felt Angela’s warm hands cup her own.

“Amelie,” she started, hands trembling, “I’m in love with you.”

If Amelie was surprised, she didn’t show it. Instead, she waited for Angela to finish what she wanted to say.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t, but I felt that I had to tell you. I love you, as a best friend and even more than that.” Her voice was unsure, soft and hesitant. 

Amelie smiled, “thanks for telling me, Angela. I’m sorry,” Amelie stopped, smile fading, “but I don’t love you the same way. I hope you understand that... and that things won’t change between us?”

“Yeah.” Angela hurriedly replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “l-let’s continue our way up, before it gets too crowded. You wouldn’t want your photos to be too crowded with people, right?” She laughed sheepishly, letting go of Amelie’s hand and walking away. 

Her heart had sunk, but she decided not to bring it up again. It would've been too much of a dream come true if her feelings were reciprocated, and she knew that. The relationship she had with Amelie didn’t change after that, and a year later, Amelie had told Angela about her relationship with Gerard. They got married soon after. Angela still loved Amelie, but she had to be happy for her. That was how things were, and she was still proud to call Amelie her best friend. That’s all they were. The amount of trips they went on together lessened, and she watched less of Amelie’s performances. They didn’t drift from each other a considerable amount, but things just couldn’t be the same anymore. Amelie went missing, was found, then she killed Gerard, the chain of things happened in a flash and Angela couldn’t do anything. 

All she could do was watch and feel helpless, then worked even harder after that. There were just so many flaws she found in herself after countless times of self-reflection, and she constantly tried to become _better_ , she just never felt good enough. She just wanted to live up to her name, and people’s expectations, as Mercy, as an Angel, and a Saviour, consequently being oblivious to the people around her. Reaper was right, she had neglected everyone around her. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, it was just that she was too focused on what she thought she should do. 

* * *

Her moods were constantly fluctuating between highs and lows, but she reminded herself that she joined today’s battle for a reason, to meet Widowmaker, and hoping that she’d remember _something_. She had to hold onto that slim chance that Amelie was still there. She felt as if bringing Amelie back would right all her wrongs, as a way of redeeming herself. Right now, Angela was being selfish, and she knew. For once, she wanted to do something for _Angela_ and not Mercy, not wanting to neglect Angela anymore. 

While busy being caught up in her thoughts, Angela hadn’t noticed that a certain sniper had already begun her descent towards where she was. 


	5. A Dream No More

Widowmaker had been watching Mercy from the corner of her eye, trying to make sure she was safe. It wasn’t as if she could just kill the Talon agents and act like she had missed, because Widowmaker never misses... much. She was just making shots that caused agents to confuse her own with Overwatch snipers’, sometimes grazing a Talon agent’s ear or accidentally disarming them.  Mercy seemed to shine even brighter today. She was flying so quickly everywhere, her radiance was remarkable, nearly blinding. Widowmaker understood why sometimes, people called Mercy the Battle Angel. She could effectively utilise her pistol when necessary, and immediately went over to an injured teammate after. Mercy never killed anyone, just immobilising the Talon agents only when she was in danger. 

She didn’t remember much of Angela besides what hse saw in her dreams, but Widowmaker could tell that Angela had a beautiful heart, as she fought so hard to protect her team while making sure she didn’t cause grave harm to others. The warmth Widowmaker felt in her chest was pulsing through her veins, and she decided to embrace the feeling instead of fight it. It was the effect of seeing Mercy, _Angela_ , and she wanted to  enjoy it, because she wouldn’t know when a battle would be Mercy’s last. Reaper was lurking around the shadows, clearing masses of Overwatch’s agents. Talon agents were at a disadvantage due to the earlier explosion, but Reaper seemed to be levelling that disadvantage alone. Thankfully, he was depending on her to keep Mercy away, if not he would have went for her himself. She would never know when Reaper would decide to hunt Mercy down whenever she strayed too far alone, but she just hoped that Mercy would be safe. There was only _that_ much she could do as a Talon agent, and keeping Mercy, an Overwatch agent, entirely safe was not. The heavy rain wasn’t making it easy for her, either. The sun had gone, and was replaced by dense, grey clouds. 

She noticed Mercy getting distracted, constantly looking around and over her shoulder, as if looking for someone. Widowmaker clicked her tongue, unscoped, and started looking around too. Just what the hell could be distracting Angela so much? It was so  _dangerous_ , and Widowmaker never felt so _annoyed_. What was _wrong_ with Angela? Why was she doing such a thing in a fight against Talon? Everyone in the battle was out to get her, and she still chooses to be distracted. Widowmaker failed to notice anything that could be distracting Angela, and irritatedly went back to sniping, except she couldn’t see Mercy anywhere. She was gone. Widowmaker panicked for a moment, looking around frantically, hoping not to Angela’s dead body. 

“I’ve lost sight of Mercy.” Widowmaker communicated to Reaper, one, hoping that it made her seem as if she was actually looking for Mercy to kill her, and two, waiting for Reaper to tell her that Mercy was alive, somewhere. 

She felt her heart stop when she heard Reaper’s reply: “I see her. You focus on the field. I’ll go after her.” 

“Where is she?” Widowmaker answered urgently at a poor attempt to hide her fear. 

Angela could die today, and it would be her fault. Because she got distracted and lost sight of her; because she told Reaper and caused him to direct his attention to Mercy. 

“Seems the angel is tired and decided to take a rest on some metal scaffolding... what a dumb, careless, _fatal_ mistake to make.” 

Widowmaker could hear the hatred in his voice, accompanied with a tinge of satisfaction. She knew how easy it would be for Reaper to kill Angela, with a single shot of his guns, as easy as crushing a fly in his palm. She checked her surroundings, and heaved a sigh of relief when she caught sight of Angela, standing near a corner of the scaffolds. Immediately after, she saw Reaper manifest a few feet away from Angela, and she stood helplessly, watching Reaper speak to her.

Just then, an idea surfaced in her mind - she would kill him. If he laid a hand on Angela, she would definitely kill him. She couldn’t do it with her rifle. Talon would know that she went rogue if she did, and would brainwash her again. She knew better than to risk forgetting Angela again. She scanned her surroundings for something she could use, and found a rusty, discarded metal pipe with a jagged, sharp point. She could stab him with it, and she wouldn’t be suspected, would she? If Reaper died no one would bear witness. She assumed that the other agents were too busy fighting Overwatch. 

With the metal pipe in her hand and Widow’s Kiss left behind at the top, she started making her way down slowly, ensuring that the scaffolds didn’t creak with her movements. She stopped momentarily, thinking of the best way to approach them without alerting Reaper. She could grapple over, but Reaper would notice her even before her grapple reached them. 

Her eyes widened as Reaper closed in on Angela, cornering her. She saw how Angela turned to the side, looking for a way to escape, but she couldn’t. Reaper clutched Angela’s thin, fragile neck so tightly that Widowmaker thought it would’ve been over by then. She realised that the crashing of the rain against the metal scaffolding would mask the sounds of the scaffold, and started rushing towards them, panic-stricken. There was nothing else in her mind except to save Angela. She just needed to get to where they were as soon as possible. Before she could reach them, however, Reaper had surprisingly left Angela alone after speaking with her, and Angela fell onto the scaffold. 

Only now did she think of how Angela would react upon seeing her. Blue skin, amber eyes, someone who had killed so many people. She was a monster, while Angela was an angel. She even killed Gerard, days after returning to Overwatch as Amelie. Angela would probably think that she was pretending again, so how would she convince Angela that she meant no harm? How would she tell Angela about how much she missed her without looking suspicious? Her own hands slightly trembling and questions bouncing around the walls of her mind, Widowmaker approached the unsuspecting woman carefully, hoping not to scare her. She just hoped that Angela would believe her again, just one more time, so that she could speak to her. 

* * *

 

Things didn’t go as she planned, as Amelie noticed how Angela’s eyes widened with fear when their eyes met. Angela hurriedly stood up, desperately clutching onto her staff with both hands.  Amelie saw the small tremors that shook Angela’s shoulders, and knew her fear was realised - Angela was _afraid_ of her. Amelie turned off the headset in her ear.

“Mercy.” She reached out a hand, hoping that it made her seem less of a threat. 

Angela bit her lip, “W-widowmaker,” she stuttered, one hand holding onto her staff and another hand feeling for her pistol behind her. She didn’t expect to meet with her so soon, right after her encounter with Reaper. She only briefly recovered, and here was Widowmaker, metal pipe in her hand, probably here to kill her, no doubt in a strange way. Why a pipe instead of her rifle? 

Hurt flashed in Amelie’s eyes as she realised that Angela thought she came to kill her, even though she would never do such a thing. She saw as Angela looked at the metal pipe in her hand, and immediately flung the pipe somewhere far away. Amelie motioned towards her ear, requesting that Angela turn her in-ear headphones off. Angela did as she was requested, confusion on her face.

“I’m not here to hurt you, Angela,” Amelie said, voice cracking as she finally came face-to-face with the woman in her dreams, the woman who provided her comfort when she needed it the most. “Listen to me. It’s Amelie.” 

Amelie bet on the slim chance that Angela would listen to her, that she would trust her, despite what she had done before. 

Angela dropped her staff, her mouth slightly agape. She stopped feeling for her pistol. This was Amelie, and this time, she was sure. This wasn’t the same Widowmaker who had killed Gerard, this was Amelie, who she loved and who she went on holidays with. This was Amelie, the one she had longed to meet. The missed bullet wasn’t a maybe, the missed bullet was on purpose. Amelie didn’t intend to kill her. 

“Angela.” Amelie repeated her name, feeling tears well up in her eyes. 

“Amelie,” Angela took unsure steps towards her, but when she saw the tears glisten in Amelie's warm, amber eyes, she ran towards her, arms wide open. 

Amelie threw herself into Angela’s embrace, and she felt so happy and warm in her arms. 

“You’re so cold.” Angela commented, sweeping the hair away from Amelie’s face, slowly getting used to her cold, blue, skin. Her amber eyes and deep purple hair.

“And you’re so warm,” Amelie smiled, “Talon programmed me like this, a-"  

“Hey Amelie?” Angela suddenly interrupted, “I need you to grab me and go.” 

“Go where?” Amelie asked, taken aback by Angela’s strange request. 

“Away. We need a place to talk, and this is not it. Not here, amongst this fight. We have to leave.” Angela said urgently. She picked up her staff and huffed, "we need to hurry."

“Don’t you have a grapple? I’ve seen you use it,” Angela said, even more urgency in her voice. She tugged on Amelie's arm and placed it around her waist.

Amidst her panic, Angela didn’t notice how Amelie’s gaze didn’t leave from her face, a small smile tugging at the corner of her eyes.

“I was too caught up in your radiance that I forgot entirely about it,” Amelie mumbled, and Angela didn't hear her. 

"What?" Angela replied, brows furrowed, staff in one arm and grabbing onto Amelie's shoulder with another. 

"I said, I'll have to first get my rifle from the top," Amelie lied, her smile not leaving her lips. 

"I'm going with you," Angela said, tightening her grip on Amelie's shoulder. 

"Relax, cherie," Amelie held onto Angela's waist, "I didn't say I'd leave you behind. I've spent too much time waiting for you to do that." 

Angela was seemingly too busy removing the headset in her ear and throwing it away, but the subtle blush that rose to her ears didn't go unnoticed by Amelie.  The echoes of the headset falling and bouncing against the metal of the scaffold was drowned out by the rain. After collecting the Widow's Kiss from the top, Amelie aimed her grapple at another metal scaffolding further from the one they were on, secured her arm around Angela’s waist and pulled them both away from the scene.

* * *

 

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying it so far! The last part was a little bit tough for me to write but I hope it didn't turn out too weird. I went back to edit a few chapters for the sake of consistency (since the first chapter was written 2 years ago), so please feel free to point out any weird writing. The next update might be late since I'm leaving the current place I'm at to return home, so I'm not sure if I'll have the time to write the next chapter. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

They both decided to take a rest from running away, safely tucked in a corner of a dilapidated building that seemed to be an old factory. They were surrounded by piles of cement bricks, rusted steel poles and big, towering machines that seemed out of use for years.  The rain had let up during their journey, being reduced to only a light shower. Drenched, they huddled together, a poor attempt on Angela's part on trying to keep warm.

“I-it’s cold, isn’t it.” Angela mumbled through her chattering teeth. 

“I don’t feel it.” Amelie responded, looking over at the trembling woman who squeezed beside her, her petite frame seeming so fragile. “I can’t feel it, actually. I don’t think snuggling up to me is a good idea when you’re cold, either.” 

“What did Talon _do_ to you, Amelie?” Angela asked, still snuggled beside the sniper. Angela had her arms around herself, small shivers shaking her body, but she didn’t move from her spot beside the sniper.

“I... don’t know.” Amelie replied, her voice merely a whisper. Her fingers traced the rifle in her lap while she looked nowhere in particular. 

Seeing how uncomfortable Amelie looked, Angela dropped the topic, and a silence filled the small space between them. Amelie thought that Angela was warm (though Angela herself was trembling), as her warmth seeped right through the fabric of her suit and enveloped her. Once again, Amelie was reminded of why she was so desperate to meet this woman - it was because of the warmth she never failed to provide. 

"Sorry," Amelie said, wrapping an arm around Angela’s frame, “but this is all I can do.”

“Thanks,” Angela smiled, leaning into her. Amelie was halfway right - leaning into her didn’t provide warmth at all, but at least it wasn’t cold either. 

 _She must be exhausted_ , Amelie thought, soft smile grazing the corners of her lips. Angela had been soothed asleep by the lullaby of Amelie's slow heartbeat, head comfortably tucked into the curve of Amelie's neck. Amelie took this time to gather her thoughts, slowly planning what she would talk about with Angela when she wakes up. Despite that desperate longing she had to meet her, Amelie had nothing to say. She tried to recall what she fantasised about speaking to Angela about ever since the first time she spotted Angela at the battlefield, but she drew a blank. She took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the sleeping woman. 

First, she would ask about the nature of their relationship. There must have been a reason behind why she had dreamed of her so _much_. There must definitely be one, or else she wouldn’t have felt so warm and... _comfortable_ , merely from dreaming of her. _Angela_ , among all the people in her life, was remembered, and that meant they _had_ shared something important. 

She gave up planning almost immediately, as she still didn't know what to say. Depending on Angela's answers, Amelie decided that she would ask whatever questions popped up in her mind. She had imagined this scenario so many times before, and this felt exactly like a dream come true. She hesitantly touched Angela’s pale cheek with the back of her palm, just to make sure that this was _real_. Angela suddenly stirred, causing Amelie to release a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her chain of thought broken, she merely watched as the doctor slowly awoke. 

Angela uttered a quick apology, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“It’s fine. How long have you gone without sleep, doctor?” Amelie asked, a knowing twinkle in her eyes. She vaguely remembered herself asking the same question before. _Multiple_ times before, in fact. The way Angela’s eyes widened slightly confirmed that she did. 

Hurriedly tucking imaginary stray strands of hair behind her ear, Angela started rambling on about how she had been taking naps through the week on days she didn’t sleep, how there were just too many cases and too much research to do on some days more than others, and how she _did_ actually sleep the night before, just that the stubborn dark circles refused to go away no matter how much she slept anyway, and that it was because of the fight just now, plus how they had to run so much after, that tired her out so quickly. Amelie let her ramble, amused by the way the doctor lost her composure over such a minor thing. 

“Relax, cherie.” She chuckled, “it was just a question I asked in passing. You fell asleep so quickly, after all.” 

The silence found the space between them again, but this time less awkward than before. 

“Angela.” Amelie’s tone changed, as she turned to the woman beside her and stared straight into the light blue eyes she had dreamt of so many times before, except they were way brighter than the ones in her dreams. The intensity of the blue in her eyes distracted Amelie for a moment, but it didn’t take her long before she collected herself. “Who are you?” 

Angela merely stared back, not saying anything, confusion written all over her face. 

“I mean,” Amelie bit her lip, “who are you to me? To Amelie? What were we? ” 

Angela broke their eye contact, looking at her own fingers in her lap which were busy fidgeting with her staff. 

“We... were friends.” Angela looked up at Amelie after what felt like ages. She swallowed, “we used to go on vacations together a lot, until you got married to Gerard. We just didn’t have time, you know?” She looked away from Amelie again, avoiding her gaze by pretending to look at something else - the machines around them, the steel poles, the bricks. “We were just close friends, that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.” She had a smile plastered on her face as she said it, the grip on her staff causing her fingertips to turn white. 

“No.” Amelie retorted bluntly. “That cannot be. You’re lying.” 

Angela’s smile didn’t waver, and without skipping a beat, she replied, “why would you think that I lied?” 

She had forgotten how perceptive _Amelie_ was, and that was something that certainly did not go away with brainwashing. 

“Amelie.” Amelie closed her eyes, placing an open palm on her chest, “not Widowmaker. Not me, but  _Amelie_. The Amelie who was supposedly meant to disappear off the face of the Earth when Talon brainwashed her. _She_. Remembered _you_. It was because of you that the Amelie you see now is here. That _I_ am here.” Opening her eyes again and taking a deep breath, Amelie spoke as calmly as she could. “Amelie remembered you. I could kill Gerard without even blinking, but I could never bring myself to even raise my rifle at you without thinking of killing myself after.” 

Angela didn’t respond.

“I dreamed of you. Every single day, Angela. I would drag myself back to the cramped room, as exhausted as I could be, just so I could fall asleep immediately and hopefully see you in my dreams. You were the only source of colour in those grey walls.” Tears welled at the corners of her eyes and her voice was cracking, but Amelie resisted the urge to cry. Why was it so _frustrating_? Why wasn’t Angela reacting? She merely sat there, staff in her hands and barely moving.  Amelie saw the contrast of the grey staff in Angela’s hands against the white of her knuckles. 

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Amelie pleaded, “please. Please just tell me.” 

“But that’s all we were.” Angela’s voice cracked as she sniffled, “we were good friends. There’s nothing more for me to say. I don’t know why you didn’t think of Gerard. I don’t know why you thought of _me_ ,” Angela paused. “I may be a miracle worker or saviour or whatever, but I don’t have the answers to everything. I’m sorry if I let you down.” 

“I-” Amelie steeled herself to tip Angela’s chin to look into her eyes again. “That wasn’t the reason I was looking for you. I don’t know what you’re going on about, about the miracle worker and the saviour and all those things you’re talking about. Indeed, I am let down that you aren't being completely honest with me. Here I am, spilling everything to you. A brainwashed Talon agent and an Overwatch agent.” Amelie took a deep breath before continuing. “I may not remember much as Amelie, but this is everything. Everything I know and feel as Widowmaker _and then_ Amelie. I’m not here to chase my past. I’m not here to remember Gerard. Nothing can change the fact that I killed him, but you’re still here. You’re part of my past and present.”  

Angela trembled against Amelie’s touch, and she could feel her heartbeat pulsing in her temples. She still tried to avoid Amelie’s strong gaze, feeling as if Amelie could look directly into her soul. She couldn’t expose herself, not now, not ever. If Amelie had forgotten what she had said at the waterfalls, it just meant that it wasn’t worth bringing up. Her thoughts were interrupted when Amelie’s hand fell and lightly grasped her arm instead.

“In my dream, you told me you loved me. Did it really happen? Did we really visit some waterfall together?” 

Angela took a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes grew frantic. Amelie did remember. Angela couldn't hide it and act as if it didn't happen. Still, she didn’t say anything.

Amelie, without pausing despite Angela’s reaction, squeezed the small arm in her grip gently.

Her voice remained calm, any nervousness or frustration hidden behind the exterior of her steady gaze. She drew assuring circles on Angela’s arm with her thumb, “I need to know, Angela.” 

“It did.” Angela sighed, turning her head so she couldn’t see Amelie’s face.

There was another long pause, as Angela mustered the courage to confess to Amelie once again.

“I’m in love with you, Amelie. I always was, and I still am. That's what I told you at the waterfalls.” 

Amelie didn’t expect this. Her thumb stopped drawing circles, and everything in her seemed to crash down on each other, her mind turning into a frenzied mess. 

“Angela.” She said, throat tight and voice tense. “And what did I say?” 

* * *

 A/N: I'm back home and finally back to writing. I'm writing this at 2am (why does inspiration strike so late) so I'm sorry if I've made any mistakes anywhere, I promise I'll check this chapter again when I have the time. Once again, thanks for reading! 

Update - I finally found the time to read through this chapter and rewrite what I thought was bad! :) 


	7. Chapter 7

_And what did I say?_

How was she supposed to tell Amelie that she had been rejected? Angela knew she was going to be rejected again, and when it happens, she wouldn’t be able to stay with Amelie. She would have to nurse a second heartbreak caused by the same woman, but this time, in the middle of nowhere with no alcohol. The pain of being rejected once and then being rejected _again_ even after Amelie was _brainwashed_ would be unbearable. 

Angela could feel Amelie’s intense gaze, still patiently waiting for her response. She decided to be honest, since it was probably too late to say anything else after mindlessly blurting out to her that she was _still_ in love with her. Things couldn’t get any worse. 

Finally releasing the grasp on her staff, Angela took a deep breath and turned towards Amelie. She steeled herself to turn towards Amelie, even if she couldn’t make eye contact with her.

Looking at Amelie’s hands in her lap, she barely whispered, “you said that you didn’t love me the same way... Well we were still good friends after that. We still travelled together... sometimes. Though I couldn’t go to your ballet performances anymore, because you could only get one ticket every time.” 

Angela didn’t see how Amelie’s brows knit together.  She was puzzled with her own response. Did she really not love Angela the same way? 

Angela forced a smile as she felt the hot sensation in her eyes that accompanied the formation of tears. She tried blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the already forming tears and mumbled, “but well. I’m glad I was an important enough friend that you remembered me, Amelie.” 

“That’s not right.” Amelie mumbled. “That’s not right,” she repeated, slightly louder than the first time. 

“What’s not right? I’m being honest with you now-” 

“I know you are. Hold on, I’ll have to... think about this. Give me some time.” Amelie replied. 

She had to figure out why the previous Amelie said such a thing. She had to sort out her own feelings while trying to understand what the previous Amelie was thinking. It was as if she was solving a puzzle with two missing pieces. 

She could see Angela from the corner of her eye, staring at the ground, face full of worry. Amelie knew that Angela made up most of the puzzle pieces. Angela was important to her. _Very_ important. 

“I’ll give you some space to think about it, alright?” Angela said, suddenly standing up and dusting off her uniform, ready to go to another part of the factory.

“Stay here. With me. Please.” Amelie pleaded, grabbing onto Angela’s hand. “I want you here with me.” 

They both leaned against each other, backs against the damp concrete wall as they took time to sort out their own feelings. Angela had stopped trembling by now, but Amelie still wrapped an arm around her. They sought comfort in each other’s warmth, and Amelie didn’t find it a surprise that Angela fell asleep (again) shortly after. 

Amelie was sure about her own feelings for Angela. It definitely wasn’t a coincidence that it was Angela she dreamed of, and how it came so easily to her the second their eyes met on the battlefield.

Angela’s confession was so deeply ingrained in her that even brainwashing couldn’t make her forget - Angela’s smile and the colour of her eyes, down to the silky texture of her hair. It was as if by _instinct_ that Amelie had uttered an “I love you too” when she saw Angela on the battlefield when she missed that shot. She had known who Angela was to her, and all she needed was confirmation from the woman who knew of her past, the woman who held all the pieces together. 

The past Amelie rejected her. When had she started dating Gerard? Was it before or after the confession? Did she have feelings for Gerard then? Did she reject Angela because of Gerard or because of other reasons? Question after question arose, but she had no answers. Amelie hadn’t feel a twinge of guilt for killing Gerard. How could she? When she had killed him he was merely a stranger. Her callsign, Widowmaker, didn’t stir any emotion in her. So what if she killed him? He was the same as the many soldiers she had killed - just someone who meant nothing to her. 

She felt terrible, as if she had no right to be beside her right now. She was a complete monster, and she knew. Someone who could kill without as much as a blink. She knew how Angela had blamed herself for Genji Shimada and for Gabriel. She knew all too well from what Gabriel had told her. The guilt of feeling as if she had done everything wrong manifested itself as the dark circles under her eyes, after god knows how many sleepless nights, just because she wanted to get better to save the people important to her. 

She heard every single word of Gabriel’s conversation with Angela. 

_I wanted to kill you... but you look like you actually want it. I would much rather prefer watching you suffer in your guilt._

She then remembered what Angela said to her before, “ _I may be a miracle worker or saviour or whatever, but I don’t have the answers to everything. I’m sorry if I let you down”._

She wondered just how much was Angela suffering, carrying the weight of the entire Overwatch on her shoulders. There was so much she was expected to do, and there was definitely even more that she was blamed for _not_ doing. Angela was being crushed under the pressure of being a miracle worker. A saviour. _Bullshit_. Even Amelie was guilty for thinking of Angela as an Angel. The woman who was sleeping beside her was simply _human_ , and people seem to have forgotten that. Her heart ached as she thought of the amount of blame heaped onto the shoulders of the medic, fast asleep on her shoulder. Was what she had done for Genji Shimada and Gabriel wrong? Amelie didn’t think so. 

Amelie gently swept Angela’s bangs behind her ear, thinking about how broken Angela must be. How much she must have blamed herself for trying to save others, so much so to the point that she would have rather died. Amelie sighed as she held Angela’s hand in her own, rubbing circles onto her pale wrists, relieved that there were no scars. Amelie had told Angela that she wasn’t here to chase her past, but how could she avoid doing so when Angela was her past, and is her present, and hopefully will be her future? She had no choice but to chase her past if she wanted to figure out what she used to be like. She wanted to know what Amelie had felt, had thought, had done. She was jealous of the Amelie who spent so much time with Angela, and was disappointed that she forgot. She wondered if there would have been a difference if she had met Angela before she killed Gerard. 

Then something suddenly struck her - she _had_ met Angela before. 

* * *

Sorry for the late update, I'm still getting used to being back in school and recently had a surgery done. This chapter feels a lil short, but I'm aiming for a longer chapter next update. See you guys soon, and thank you for the encouraging comments! It means a lot to me and really motivates me to write even more. Thank you so much! :) 

 


End file.
